Miner's Revenge
by darksupernatural
Summary: The guys go to investigate one of Sam's visions and wind up in over their heads. Limp!Hurt!Sam. Hurt!Dean. Angst and brotherly bonding abound. Set early S2. Not part of my series. Still don't own, just borrowing. Reviews welcome!
1. Breathing through Pain

A/N: This story hit me in the face while I was dealing with one particularly cold night recently while I was sick. Set before my others; say early to mid season 2, before the Usual Suspects. Sam has no controllable abilities in this one and still has vision-pain. Does not involve Kira or Drea. Still don't own the guys. The miner's ghost is mine though.

Anything that I write that doesn't sound right is because I didn't spend too much time gathering background info on poisoning or deep mines. My dad is a retired miner and has a lot of stories. I'd like to thank my mom for the music reference. That song came out way before I learned a lot about music and country just isn't my thing. Hope everyone enjoys and all reviews appreciated!

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Miner's Revenge

**Chapter 1: Breathing Through Pain**

"Gaaahhhhddd! D-dean?" Sam was writhing on the bed next to Dean's in the sparse but clean motel room in Utah. Dean was jarred from a deep sleep by Sam's cries. Coming instantly awake; he was at his brother's side.

"Sammy, what is it?" Sam continued to toss on the twin bed, hands now shooting up to clutch his head as he flopped onto his back. His casted hand made a thumping sound against his head and Dean doubted he even felt it. His eyes scrunched tight, he moaned again. Now Dean knew exactly what was happening._ Vision._ Sam began gasping for breath as the vision and the pain it inflicted hit him full force. His lips began to have a blue tinge as he struggled to get enough oxygen into his lungs to supply his rebelling body. _This is one of the worst I've seen him have._ "Sammy? Hey bud, you gotta breathe." Dean hauled Sam onto his side, propping his head up against his sweat clad thigh. Sam was facing him. He began to rub circles along Sam's spine with one hand while the other squeezed his in a rhythm that he hoped he could get Sam to follow.

"Sammy, c'mon. Breathe through it, ride it out, Sam. Just like Dad taught us to do with pain. Breathe, c'mon. In (_squeeze_). Out (_release_). Again, Sam."

Sam struggled to follow his big brother's rhythm, now desperate for the air his stressed breathing was denying. The pain in his head had his mind fragmented. He couldn't think, couldn't make his body follow his commands as his brain tried to send impulses through his screaming nerves. He heard his brother's voice, penetrating the fire in his mind. He struggled to keep the voice from being lost to his ears as the roaring pain swamped him again; praying the soothing timbre of Dean's voice worked its miracle again as it always had in the past. Chills wracked his tall, muscular frame; making him feel again like the sick seven year old that Dean had last used this tactic on.

"Guh… De…huuuhhh." He got some air past his trembling lips and down his parched throat. Dean continued to rub the soothing circles, now with the butt of his palm, a little more strongly. The friction built and began to warm Sam's chilled flesh. Sam got more air into his lungs this time on another squeeze from Dean's strong hand. Dean felt the intake of air and breathed once again himself.

"That's it Sammy. Keep going, little brother. C'mon, kiddo. Breathe. Just breathe. You can do it. Just listen to my voice, Sammy. In………out………..in……….out. Good."

Sam latched on to the sound penetrating his pain induced haze. That tell-tale white that had flashed across the end of his vision began to darken, turning gray around the edges. The agony shooting through his brain began to slowly ebb away, fading to the ache that would last for hours or even the next day. Gray faded to black and encompassed the glimpse he caught of his brother as he raised his hazel eyes to meet his brother's worried green ones. Sam slumped against Dean, his breathing still ragged, but evening out. The vision was over. Sam was exhausted and had given in to that lethargy. Dean picked up his brother's limp form and put his head back on the pillow. He pushed back Sam's sweat drenched dark brown hair, and ran a thumb across his forehead. His skin was clammy and Dean knew he would not be getting back to sleep that night.

He went to the small bathroom and got a washcloth from the basket that adorned the small vanity as well as taking up most of the counter top around the sink. He dampened it and returned to Sam after he'd wrung out the excess water.

"What's going on in that freaky head of yours, Sammy? You know, you really know how to scare a guy." Dean said as he sat down on the bed next to Sam's unresponsive body and began bathing the sweat streaks from his pale features. He continued the soothing motion of the washcloth across Sam's forehead, waiting for the response that would tell him that Sam was truly resting. It soon came. That sigh, childlike in quality, that reassured Dean more than anything that his little brother would truly be okay. Dean passed the remainder of the night sitting on the edge of Sam's twin bed with his feet up, crossed at the ankle; and one hand on his brother's chest feeling it rise and fall steadily.


	2. Rattled

**Chapter 2: Rattled**

The next morning Sam woke up to find that Dean was half sitting, half laying on what little of the small bed his body didn't occupy. He was asleep, his hand still on Sam's chest and his head lying against his on the pillow. The pain was there, as he'd expected, but not nearly as bad as it probably should have been. Sam smiled slightly at the kink Dean would have in his neck. He knew Dean had given up his notion of comfort to help and he was grateful. Part of him was irritated, mad at himself, that he was always doing this to Dean. Sam raised his free hand to Dean's where it rested on his chest. He squeezed gently and it was enough to bring Dean fully awake. He sat up and his neck popped. Sam winced for him.

"Hey. You okay?"

"I think so. Thirsty." Sam's voice sounded foreign to his ears as he struggled to sit up on the bed. Dean pushed him back down.

"You just relax. I'll get you some water." Dean moved off and soon returned with a disposable cup full of cool water. He lifted Sam's head without question as Sam found himself too weak to do it himself. Sam gulped the water until Dean pulled it away. "Easy, you'll make yourself sick."

"Thanks Dean."

"Don't mention it. Just rest. You need it." Dean took the water away, dumping the rest down the bathroom sink and putting the cup next to Sam's toothbrush. Sam forced himself upright on the twin bed, still favoring his casted wrist even thought it had been three weeks since it was broken; knowing he'd earn Dean's wrath, but this couldn't wait any longer. Dean heard the movement on the bed and turned, glaring at Sam.

"Are you ever gonna listen to me, Sammy?" It was asked quietly.

"Dean, this vision- it's something we gotta check out. You know …"

Dean interrupted him. "That was one of the worst ones yet. I had to watch you writhe and gasp for breath. Hell, I had to coach you through the pain to keep you breathing! I…Dammit Sam, these things take you too far away from me." He fell to the other bed, the one he'd managed to get half a decent night's sleep in, and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I don't know how to reach you when they take you that far away. It… it scares me, Sammy, like nothing else. You being that out of it, that far gone that one day I'm not gonna get you back." Dean sounded broken, in pain himself, but the nuance in his voice that caught Sam's attention was one of fear- closer to terror. It galvanized Sam into action.

Still unsteady on his feet, Sam stood and crossed the scant three feet to Dean's bed. Dean was now studying the threadbare beige carpeting as if it were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. His hands were folded between his knees, white knuckled as they shook, and his elbows rested on his thighs. Sam sat down beside him and mimicked the gesture, his good hand curling around his white clad wrist. Even his hands were shaking, more from weakness and concern for Dean than fear for his life. He knew Dean would just always be there, that Dean could always reach him, no matter how far away he was pulled by the visions.

Sam was close enough to Dean that their shoulders touched, that was all, but it was enough for Dean to relax. Sam felt the tension swamping him abate just enough that maybe Dean would listen.

"Dean, you have _always _been able to reach me. My entire life you've been the only one that could pull me back and get me through. Remember the poltergeist in Montana that put me in the hospital, comatose?" Sam bumped shoulders with Dean again, gaining a response from him.

"Yeah, I remember. You were fourteen. I was on a hunt a couple towns over, my second one by myself."

"The docs said I had no chance of coming out of it. Said I was too deep. Dad had given up after the docs had to sedate him and set the knuckles he'd broken after punching the hospital's tile wall. You came on a call from Josh. You sat and talked to me for two weeks straight, no concern for yourself. You…"

"Who told you I did that?"

"Joshua. The point is, Dean, you _did_ reach me. When I was as far away as I could get, you still reached me. The first thing I could remember was your voice. It wasn't as deep as it is now, but the tones still broke through to me. You saved me then Dean, and you always will. Just by talking. You know what you said that was the first thing I heard?"

"No. What was it?"

"You were telling me to keep breathing. You promised me that if I did, you would get me a cheeseburger from that place that had the burgers we liked so much. You said we would hit the arcade there and hustle them out of half their good prizes. You kept that promise even though you weren't sure I'd even heard it."

"Yeah." Dean breathed a laugh. "I guess I did. That's how you got your first basketball. I spent two weeks teaching you to shoot hoops while Dad was out hunting. He wouldn't let me go on any more hunts alone, and he refused to take you because you got hurt on his watch. You were so short you couldn't dunk." Dean laughed now and Sam knew he'd be okay, which was good because Sam was now having a hard time staying upright. He wavered and bumped shoulders with Dean again. He couldn't stop the shaky breath he took from being audible to Dean's ears. His brother was on the move, hoisting him to his feet and supporting almost all his weight as he helped Sam get back to his bed.

He lowered Sam to the bed and put his bare feet up. Pulling the covers over him he said, "Get some rest. I'm not gonna tell you again." Dean watched as Sam rolled onto his right side. Sam had his fiberglass sporting right arm jutting out off the edge of the bed and had his left forearm resting over his right elbow. His left hand went up to shield his eyes from the sunlight that streamed through the window. Dean thought it was more to ease the pain that still had Sam's brain in a vice, the way Sam pressed the butt of his palm to his forehead. Sam breathed that sigh and his lights were out. Dean pulled the drapes shut and looked at Sam again.

"Thanks, kiddo. You know what I needed." Dean whispered as he turned away and went to take some Tylenol for his very stiff neck. He showered and dressed, spending the morning quietly, halfheartedly looking for a case on the laptop. He knew that whenever Sam was strong enough to tell him about that vision-_ God I hate it when he suffers through one of those damn things -_ that would be the case they took.


	3. Game Face

**Chapter 3: Game Face**

At two o'clock Sam began to stir on the bed. Dean pushed away from the table and went to his side, sitting on the foot of the bed. Sam's hazel eyes opened, much clearer and pain free.

"Afternoon, princess. Sleep well?" Dean taunted with a smile.

Sam smiled back sweetly, "Bite me." He sat up on the bed and put his feet on the floor. He pushed the leg of his sweats back down where it belonged and stood. Dean stood with him, just in case.

"I'm okay, Dean. I need a shower." He grabbed some clothes and headed for the shower slowly, partly to irk Dean and partly because he still did not feel right.

"Make it quick, Sasquatch. We'll go for lunch. I'm starving and need coffee. Java. Caffeine."

"Yeah, yeah." Sam muttered as he closed the bathroom door. Dean didn't hear the lock click and his smile faded. _He's still not right and that was his way of letting me know? Dammit Sam when will _you_ talk to _me Dean heard the Tylenol bottle he'd deliberately left on the sink rattle. Then he heard Sam turn on the tap and put water in the cup he'd used that morning. A few minutes later he heard the shower come on. A thought crossed his mind and he sat on the bed staring at the bathroom door._ I'm glad that shower has a curtain instead of glass doors._ Dean knew he wouldn't draw a deep breath until he saw that bathroom door open and Sam walk through.

Fifteen long minutes later he did. Dean hastily looked away from the door. _Game face. Game face._ "You ready, slowpoke? Thought I was gonna waste away to nothing waiting on you to put on your makeup; though you shoulda went with something besides walking death foundation this morning, Samantha."

Sam just ignored him and pulled on his sneakers and jacket. Hunching his shoulders and placing his hands in his pockets, he left the motel room and waited beside the Impala for Dean to get the hint the doors were locked. Dean followed in a hurry, shrugging into his worn leather jacket and pulling his keys. He unlocked his door and got in, reaching for Sam's lock. Sam opened his door and slid into his usual position as shotgun. He slumped in the seat and looked way more washed out than usual, as Dean threw a worried glance at him. To Dean even his eyes looked more gray than hazel. _Sam is really sick._ Dean dropped his game face along with the bad hand he'd been dealing Sam.

"Are you okay?"

Sam sighed and cleared his throat, making a conscious effort to sit a little straighter in the seat. "Yeah, fine. Let's go get something to eat."

Dean shook his head and fired the engine. It was five miles to the nearest diner. The convenience store was closer and Dean could have made do with sludge for coffee and a bag of peanut or even peanut butter M&M's, but Sam needed more. _If_ Dean could coax him into eating anything at all.

By the time they made it to the diner Sam had slumped in the seat again. He had his elbow resting on the door panel while two fingers of his casted hand massaged his right temple, trying desperately to ease the pain fracturing his mind. Dean pulled into a parking space and killed the engine. He looked at Sam.

"Stay put. I'm gonna go get us some take out and we'll go back to the motel to eat. Then we can talk, without being overheard, about what has you so sick."

"Dean- I'm okay. We can go inside to eat." He pushed himself up in the seat and opened his door with a squeak. He grimaced as the sound sent a shaft of pain through his already screaming nerves. Dean caught the look on his face and made a mental note._ Okay WD40 time for that hinge._ Dean got out of the car and circled it to get to Sam's side. He'd gotten his feet out but he still sat on the seat. Dean reached for him and was brushed off irritably. Sam forced his way to his feet and immediately regretted it as spots swam before his eyes.

"God." He managed as his legs gave out and Dean caught him, easing him back to the seat. He breathed slowly until his churning stomach settled and his spinning world slowed. "I think you're goin' in alone, Dean." Sam tried to smile and failed miserably. Dean tucked him back into the car and brushed the hair from his faded hazel eyes.

"I figured that." He rolled Sam's window down and shut the door softly as Sam let his head fall back against the seat. Dean grimaced at the squeak and bang as he watched a look of pain cross Sam's features. "Sorry, Sammy." Dean went in and ordered food for Sam and himself that from the menu looked like it would take the least amount of time. Luckily the restaurant was nearly empty since it was between lunch and dinner time. The waitress brought him two white paper bags and a carrier with two Styrofoam cups of coffee, one black and one nearly white-the way Sam liked his, and he paid the tab.

"Thanks," was all he said even as the waitress leaned over the bar in her low cut top, trying to flirt with him. He never looked twice as he grabbed the bags and carrier and headed back to the car. Sam was his only priority now. He headed back to the car in a hurry. Sam's head still rested against the seatback and his eyes were now closed. His breathing was a little shallow and he didn't raise his head as Dean got in the car, struggling with the bags of food and two cups of coffee. Dean settled everything on the bench seat between them and touched Sam, brushing his hair out of his eyes. Sam was still pale and slightly warm. He stirred a little and opened washed out eyes to mere slits.

"Sorry, Dean." He whispered and swallowed against the rasp in his dry throat.

"Don't be." Dean fired the engine and got Sam quickly back to their newest temporary home. Dean skidded to a halt right in front of their room across the two designated spaces for it and helped Sam from the car and through the door, settling him on the bed again. He pulled off Sam's sneakers and moved to rid him of his jacket. Sam brushed his hand away weakly.

"Dean, let it go. I'm cold." He said in a near whisper. Dean pulled the covers up to his shoulders, over the denim jacket Sam wore. Sam shivered slightly and Dean pulled his own blankets off his bed and added them to Sam's. Sam clasped his good hand around the edge of the blankets and tucked them under his chin. His eyes closed on another shiver and he tried to rest. Dark circles under his normally expressive eyes made Dean lose his appetite. Dean moved to the table and reached for his lukewarm coffee. He sipped it, making a face at the bitter taste and set even it aside. He never took his eyes from his brother.


	4. Dealing with Whatever Comes Their Way

**Chapter 4: Dealing With Whatever Comes Their Way**

Several hours later Sam stirred again, pushing the covers away. He groaned and opened his eyes. Dean was at his side. He helped Sam sit up in the bed and Sam fidgeted, pulling at his jacket. His cheeks were flushed and Dean figured he'd finally warmed up.

"You feelin' better?" He asked as he helped Sam pull off the denim. Dean deliberately brushed Sam's neck with his hand to covertly check for fever. Sam was warm but not from sickness. Dean breathed a relieved sigh.

"Yeah, I am. I guess I just needed more sleep and warmth." Sam put his feet to the floor and stood, Dean with him again. "Is there any food left?"

"Never touched it."

"I'm sorry I worried you. I didn't feel right before I got my shower. I should have told you."

"You did."

"What?"

"You didn't lock the bathroom door. That told me all I needed to know."

"I didn't want to ruin another day for you Dean. I do that way too much. I…"

Dean interrupted him with a wave of his hand, silver band twinkling in the overhead light in the room. That's when Sam realized it was dark outside. "Dude, not that I wanna dive head first into a chick-flick moment, but I am gonna tell you something. You have _never_ ruined a day for me. Man, we're hunters. Lousy days are in the job description. You could never make me regret any time we have. That moment might be our last if some angry bastard ghost gets a hold of us. Now, I'm gonna go ask the manager if I can use his microwave to warm up this junk. I'll be back. Sit your ass down." Dean grabbed the coffee and food bags and headed for the motel office, slamming the door behind him.

"Thanks." Sam said with a smile. He obeyed his big brother and parked his ass at the table in one of the worn chairs. Dean returned a short time later with warm food that actually smelled good to Sam. His stomach growled loudly and Dean laughed, sputtering around a mouthful of coffee. Sam turned red and grinned at the same time. Dean and Sam both ate hungrily, neither one having eaten anything since seven p.m. the night before. Sam was quiet, Dean's statement about their last moment ringing in his ears._ Angry bastard ghost. _That's exactly what they were dealing with according to Sam's vision from last night.

"Uh…Dean?"

Dean swallowed. "Yeah, Sammy. What was your vision about?"

"The mine that's still active near here. Remember when we saw the signs and trucks coming into town?"

"Yeah. Damn coal truck almost ran me off the road."

"I think the mine's haunted."

"A miner's ghost?"

"Yeah, from a long time ago. _"Big John"_ long ago."

"Wow Sammy, country music reference. Never knew you were so edjumicated, College boy."

"Shut up. Anyway I saw this guy. An overall wearing, huge guy, holding a pick axe, and covered in coal dirt. He kept flickering in and out. That's how I knew he was a spirit. He was advancing on five living deep mine workers he had cornered. He swung the pick axe as the guys backed into a dead end shaft and the thing clanged off the rocks, caving in the wall and trapping the miners. It's like I was watching it from behind the ghost. I smelled mine gas, like sulfur, also strong ozone. I heard the guy's voice. Chilled me to the bone. The guy laughed and looked at the wall he brought down. He said 'Now you'll know how I felt, being left behind to die.' Then the vision faded out. I think it was the smells that made me so sick, now that I think about it. The way I felt was a lot like carbon monoxide poisoning; a gas common in coal smoke and chemicals released by some deep mines."

"You actually smelled the mine?"

"Yeah. Kind of sucked. I'm just hoping we're not too late for those miners because I was so out of it."

"Don't worry, Sammy. This town is small and I haven't heard of any emergencies. Besides, it's the weekend. The mine office shuts down Saturday and Sunday. I saw the sign on the way into town. I'm sure the guys are off too."

"Yeah, maybe. I want to do some research. See if I can't find out who that miner was when he was alive and why he said what he did." Sam balled up the wrappers from his sandwich and hash browns and put them in the bag. He then crumpled that tight and launched it at the trashcan in the corner of the room. It went in after rolling around the edge.

"Still got your bank shot, Sam." Dean said with a smile. He followed suit and launched his trash at the can. It hit dead center, rustling the near empty garbage bag.

Dean laughed and snapped his fingers at Sam, grinning. "Three points, I win!" Sam rolled his eyes good-naturedly and flipped open his laptop. Dean moved to Sam's bed, pulling off the extra blankets and put them haphazardly on his own. He dug in his bag and pulled out his old mp3 player. Putting one ear bud in place, he then sat down on the wrinkled covers, putting his boot clad feet up just off the edge of the bed. He leaned back and closed his eyes, resting against the headboard and turning on the music. He felt tired now that his worry for Sam was lessened.

Sam glanced up from the search of local papers he was running and looked at his brother, watching him lounge. He could hear every beat from where he was seated and wondered how long Dean had before lost his hearing. Sam grinned at Dean, wishing he had something to throw. He settled for bashing him on his domestic skills. _Or lack of._

"Remind me to teach you how to make your bed, Dean-arella. Again."

Dean opened, rolled, and closed his eyes again with a look that said 'Try it and I'll kick your ass.' Sam went back to his research; scrolling over scanned newspapers from the town library's archives on its website. Sam was pleased to find that the small town was up on its technology. Not that he would ever let Dean know, but the revelation definitely satisfied Sam's inner geek. He soon found something that sparked his curiosity and sat up straight to read. He finished the article, bookmarked the page, and ran another search putting facts together. He soon knew who their killer miner was.

"Hey, Dean?" Dean opened his eyes and looked at Sam, clicking off the loud music. Metallica's _Enter Sandman_ if Sam had his beats right. Sam met his eyes. "I got it." Dean got to his feet and crossed the room looking over Sam's shoulder at the blue screen. He read the information in one article and Sam went to the other as both he and Dean read again, checking and double-checking. It was something Dad had drilled into them long ago that had become habit.

"So he's an angry spirit of a miner that was betrayed by his buddies when he found diamonds in the coal mine?"

"Yep. Looks like he's angry because his buddies double crossed him and trapped him behind a staged cave-in. It also turns out that part of the mine was just re-excavated and cleared last week. There have been two freak accidents since last week. Those were the first serious accidents in sixty years, the last being the cave-in that trapped our friend, the spirit. A guy fell in front of one of the carts they use to move coal out of the mine. The cart rolled over one of his legs, severing it. Get this; the brake was still set on the cart. Another was badly burned when the sealed lighting cable he was rigging sparked and ignited some mine gas. Cable wasn't supposed to have any juice on it."

"Talk about lighting a match in the wrong place. Did they find the skeleton?"

"No mention of that. The rubble was moved to another part of the mine, a dump site for material- kind of like an unstable area that they are in the process of backfilling. Everything that was hauled out there was deemed useless rubble. I doubt anyone looked closely when they used a skid loader to move the pile of rocks."

"So you think that they didn't see the skeleton when they moved the rubble? The excavation would have been enough to wake the bastard."

"Yeah and he would be pissed to know that somebody was rooting around down there where the diamonds are."

"Okay. Looks like we have a pissed off spirit to find and some old bones to burn."

"Dean, we have to hope that the excavation didn't break up the skeleton. We have to burn everything that the miner had when he died, including every bone. If we don't, it could still haunt that mine. If those guys from my vision aren't already trapped, they still could be."

"And that would be bad."

"Ya think?"

"Well, we can't do anything about it tonight. Tomorrow's Sunday, the mine won't be in operation. Hopefully we can get by any security and slide inside the mountain, find the bones and torch 'em, before the thing goes after the workers. Hopefully we can end this before it starts."

"I'm not sure I'm gonna be able to sleep, Dean. I mean I did sleep just about all day."

"Yeah, well don't keep me up. Don't stay up all night either. I don't want that damn ghost to get the drop on us because you're too tired to watch our backs." Dean kicked off his boots after unlacing them and, grabbing his usual sleep sweats and T shirt, he headed for the bathroom. He returned a few minutes later and stretched out, flopping the still loose covers over him. He was asleep in minutes after having been awake for most of the night before and the anxiety of the day.


	5. Better Safe than Sorry

**Chapter 5: Better Safe than Sorry**

The next morning found Sam waking up before Dean. He had done some more research and had printed a map showing the mine grid in a decently detailed layout. At one thirty he'd finally stifled his last yawn and shut off the laptop. He'd washed his face and brushed his teeth, staring at his still tired features in the mirror before going to bed. He'd slept dreamlessly. Now as he walked back into the room he was greeted by a still sleeping Dean. He reached for his pillow and whipped it at Dean when he gave a particularly loud snore, startling his big brother awake.

"Dammit Sammy. Do you really want your ass handed to you this early in the morning?"

"Daylight's wasting Dean and we need to get inside that mine. C'mon. Let's go, get dressed." Dean whipped the pillow back at Sam before flopping back down on the bed with a groan.

"You are just _way_ too chipper in the morning, you know that?"

"Sorry. That's probably the double caff-latte that's half finished and waiting on me in the car. Your jumbo black-as-night is waiting on you and still hot if you get your butt in gear."

"You got coffee already?"

"Yes."

"In my car?"

"Yes."

"Dude, why the hell didn't I hear her fire up?"

"Probably because your snoring drowned out the engine noise. Man, you sounded like a jumbo jet."

"Hilarious." Dean grabbed some clothes and headed for the bathroom. Five minutes later they were in the car, Dean driving and happily chugging the still hot, black coffee, heading for the mine.

They pulled up to the gate and expected it to be locked. Instead they found it open and three pickups parked just inside. They saw no security so Dean backed the Impala up and moved it out of sight, just off mine grounds. Sam got out and headed for the trunk, using his key to open it. Dean followed after finishing his coffee.

"So, I already packed everything we should need into these two packs. Sam slung one over his shoulders and fastened the waist buckle.

Dean hefted the other one. "What the hell did you put in mine, an elephant?"

"Shot gun, ammo, lighter fluid, flashlight, one of the camping shovels, gloves, salt, med kit, and a sleeping bag."

"Yeah, and what's in yours?"

"EMF reader, thermal imager, flashlight, shotgun, salt, ammo, lighter fluid, the other camping shovel, gloves and a sleeping bag."

"You believe in going in loaded for bear, don't ya?"

"I've said it before, Dean and I'll say it again…"

"Yeah, yeah, better safe than sorry. Why do we need sleeping bags? I don't know about you, bat boy, but I'm sleeping in the room tonight."

"Bats live in caves, Dean."

"Whatever, professor. Let's get moving. I want to find this ugly son of a bitch before he buries those miners."

"Yeah. Me too." Sam took out the layout he'd printed and gestured to several points as he explained them to Dean. "Okay, so this is the part of the mine that was sealed off by the cave-in sixty years ago.

"Where the miner went missing."

Right, and this is where the miners are excavating now. There is a major seam of coal here and they've been in this area for a couple weeks."

"It's a dead end shaft."

"Right again. Now here is the dump site for the rubble that was cleared from the sight of the cave-in. It was being moved by a smaller group of miners, five guys, because it was being transported to this unstable area and used for backfill. After this point here," Sam pointed to a line on the map, "the mining equipment was all remote operated by camera and control because of the instability of the area. The group doing the work is…"

"The same five guys from your vision."

"You win the prize of the day."

"Bite me, Sam. So if this area is so unstable they don't want their men in there, tell me again why the hell _we_ have to go in there."

"We really don't. The last of the rubble was put in there last week. It filled the unstable area up to the point they needed to backfill to so the excavation could continue down this way." Sam pointed to the area behind the sixty year old collapse, where the diamonds were supposed to have been.

"What's to say that that our friend Pick-Axe McBones wasn't in the first scoop of rubble they put in the unstable area?"

"Use your brain Dean. The rubble that was in the first backfill would have come from the outside of the collapsed shaft. If I wanted to bury someone I'd make sure they were on the back side of a wall if I was gonna bring it down. That would have put him in the last few scoops of rubble, which now puts him on the outside edge of the backfill."

"So let's go." Dean shouldered his pack and stuck his Colt in the waist band of his jeans. Sam followed Dean towards the entrance after doing the same with his Beretta.


	6. Cornered

**Chapter 6: Cornered**

They had gotten inside the mine without being seen. If anyone had been in the rough looking trucks outside, they were either deeper inside the mine or elsewhere on the grounds. Sam pulled his flashlight from the drawstring pocket on the side of his pack and turned it on as he and Dean rounded the bend just inside the entrance and were cut off from the natural light. Dean felt his heart jump as he realized how close the walls were. The inside of a coffin briefly flashed through his mind. _That sucked and so does this._ He swallowed hard and forced himself to keep walking.

They walked further until they came to the first worksite. The dead end shaft, where according to Sam's vision the miners would be cornered by the spirit and buried. The shaft was intact and the walls were stable. Sealed beam lights were spaced evenly along the walls of the shaft and Sam and Dean had no trouble seeing that the work area was empty.

"Nobody here, Sammy."

"No spirit either."

"Let's go check out the backfill and the other shaft."

"Alright, but let's check out the other shaft first. Make sure no one's down here." They moved the other direction into the newly excavated tunnel. Sam was watching the walls move by and began to feel boxed in as they began to look familiar to him. A cold wind blew by them and goose bumps rose on Sam's arms beneath his shirt and jacket.

He put out a hand and stopped Dean's advance deeper into the mine. "Dean, this is my vision. Those guys are in this tunnel and so is the spirit. Did you feel that wind? Other than the ventilation ducts and safe chambers there should be no air moving down here. We're between two of the ducts according to the map." There were no lights in this tunnel and they relied on their flashlights to show them the way through.

"Then I guess we need to find those bones."

"We need to get those guys outta here first. Dad always said get the civilians to safety if at all possible. We need to warn them."

Dean turned to Sam in the darkness of the mine shaft, shining his flashlight at the ground. "And if they're here on a Sunday because they found that diamond deposit and are raiding it, they're not gonna take too kindly to us showing up."

"You're right. We don't." A menacing voice said from behind Dean in the darkness. They heard a gun being cocked as a man stepped forward. It was one of the miners; a large man, almost matching Sam in height and twice as broad. He looked more like a wrestler than a deep mine worker.

"Easy with that gun, buddy." Dean said as he slowly turned to face the man and put his hands up in surrender while easing in front of Sam to protect him from a bullet. "You don't want to start a cave-in with the report if you fire that thing."

"You know what, you're right." The big man said as he reached into his pocket. He removed a small black cylinder and began to attach it to the barrel of the weapon. _Oh great, a silencer,_ Dean thought as he looked on. The man's hand was blocking the barrel and Dean made his move. He'd managed three steps forward before the man had the gun leveled on not his but Sam's head. Dean stopped dead in his tracks.

"I saw you move to protect that one. How 'bout you move to pick up his brains?"

"Whoa, whoa, easy. We're here to help you. Just don't shoot my brother."

"Dean…"

"Shut up Sammy." Dean said in a low voice.

"Look," he said as he made eye contact with the big man, "I don't give a rat's ass about the diamonds or anything else you do. I'm here to tell you that this mine is no longer safe. You guys disturbed something inside these walls last week. Now it's after you all."

"What the hell are you talkin' about? Put down the pack." the guy said as he brandished the gun in Dean's direction this time. Dean slowly eased the pack from his shoulders and put it down, breathing a little bit now that the gun wasn't pointed at Sam.

"This mine has bad history. I'm sure you heard the story. The miner who got trapped down here alive sixty years ago. Ring any bells?"

"So." The gun moved to Sam again.

"Look. I'm Dean and I'm gonna be totally honest with you. The guy that got buried here all those years ago is out to do the same to you. You're taking his diamonds. The ones he was screwed out of in the first place when the co-workers he trusted double crossed him so they wouldn't have to share. They killed him. Last week you guys disturbed his resting place and his diamonds. You woke his spirit and now it wants revenge."

The guy laughed loud. It echoed down the corridor of the mine, reverberating off the stone walls, floor and ceiling. "You're nuts!"

"Dean. Ozone." Sam said warningly, his nostrils flaring at the offensive odor. Dean glanced at Sam and then followed his eyes. Behind the big guy the spirit had manifested. It was just like Sam said. A large miner, bigger than the guy with the gun, stood with his pickaxe in hand. He was blinking in and out, going from solid to nearly transparent; and covered in coal dirt, wearing a filthy white sleeveless t-shirt and denim overalls.

"You think I'm nuts? Turn around."

"You're nuts and stupid if you think that's gonna work… Unh." The spirit had solidified and moved forward swinging the pick axe. It embedded in the back of the gun wielding miner. The gun went off, silencer effective enough that all that was heard was a _whoosh_ and several _pings_ as the bullet ricocheted. Sam cried out and fell to the ground at the same time the spirit ripped the pick from the now dead miner's back. The miner slumped to the stone floor a few feet from Dean.

Dean rushed to Sam's side. "You okay. How bad are you hit?"

"Just grazed." Sam said, breathlessly, as he clutched his left side below his ribs. The bullet had torn through the waist strap of his pack which had kept the wound from being a lot worse.

"Let me see." Dean moved Sam's hand aside and ripped his ruined, blood stained shirt further. It was just a graze, the skin barely removed, but it still was bleeding profusely. Dean pulled his handkerchief from his back pocket and pressed it to Sam's wound. Sam grimaced and took over the pressure. He glanced up before Dean and saw the spirit advance on his brother.

"Dean!" Sam warned. Dean turned and dodged the swing of the pick. The spirit blinked again and hesitated. A gravelly, dead voice rang out in the darkness.

"They're taking my diamonds. They betrayed me and must be made to pay." The spirit blinked out of sight.

Dean turned back to Sam. "We gotta find and burn those damn bones, Sammy. Can you walk?"

"Yeah, help me." Dean helped him to his feet while Sam tried to keep his back and side straight so the clotting wound would not break back open. He winced at the pull and regained his footing. They jogged the rest of the way down the shaft until they came to the rubble that had been piled there to shore up weak walls. Dean shined his flashlight over the boulders and pieces of broken wooden beams.

"There's nothing visible. Hold the flashlight and get out your shotgun. You keep watch while I try to find the bastard's bones." Dean hastily pulled on his leather gloves and began clearing some of the boulders while Sam kept an armed watch for both the living miners and the dead one. Sam could now hear screams coming from further Down the shaft. He heard the pick axe bounce off the stone with a metallic _clang._

"Come on Dean. You gotta hurry." The screams began to fade until Sam could only hear one voice. The last miner's cry was cut off short. Silence reigned down the shaft as Dean continued to move rocks and wood. He flipped one last piece of beam and found the skeleton. He quickly looked it over. It was intact and even still holding the pick axe the miner had been buried alive with.

"Dean. It's here." Sam turned and faced the spirit, raising his shotgun. The dead miner solidified briefly and swung, knocking Sam's shotgun away. Sam cried out in pain as the side of the pick connected with his good wrist.

"You can't have my diamonds. You betrayed me." The dead voice again rasped as the miner swung his pick axe at the stone floor. The axe broke through the floor and as the miner pulled it, the floor collapsed. Dean and Sam fell with the floor, some of the rubble and the skeleton fell with them. The spirit blinked and faded. The Winchesters lay at the bottom of another shaft, neither one moved and all was silent as boulders stopped shifting. Dust slowly settled and the air cleared.


	7. Fallen

**Chapter 7: Fallen**

A groan sounded out in the darkness as a form stirred. Dust stirred with the man and coughing ensued as the dust was inhaled on a shaky breath. Sam rolled over gingerly and sitting up with a pain filled hiss he removed the pack that still graced his shoulders. He coughed again, feeling blood trickle down his ribs and his head. He reached for his pack and fished around until he came up with his lighter. He flicked it and the flame danced to life. He looked around in the small chamber and found the flashlight a few feet from him. He went for it only to be stopped by an awful pain shooting through his right knee. His pants were torn and he saw what had caused the pain as he shined the small flame from the lighter on his leg. There was a sliver of rock sticking out of his thigh an inch above his knee.

"Oh god. Dean? Dean?!" _No response._ Sam slid across the stone floor moving bits of rubble out of his way as he reached the flashlight. His leg was going numb and throbbing at the same time. He figured that the sliver was pressing against a nerve or artery. He hoped fervently that it was the former as blood loss could kill him before he found a way to get to Dean and get out. He pocketed the lighter.

"DEAN!" Sam shined his flashlight around, still unable to catch sight of his big brother. His heart leapt into his throat as he spied a pile of rubble big enough to cover…_No! God no. Don't you be under there Dean! Anywhere but there!_ His light circled the pit floor again and finally settled on Dean's still form. Dean was face down on the hard stone floor with a piece of broken wooden beam lying across his lower back and legs. Sam fought back the panic rising with bile in his throat and slid towards Dean, pulling himself forward with his strong arms.

He reached his brother's side and touched him, praying for a response. "Dean?" He checked his pulse to find it strong but fast. Sam brushed dust off Dean's face and neck at the same time feeling carefully for broken bones. He felt nothing out of place, but knew he had to get that beam off Dean's back and check his lower extremities for injuries.

"Dean, talk to me man. C'mon." Sam touched his face again. "Hey I'm gonna move this beam off you and check you out. I need you to wake up and tell me if anything hurts. C'mon Dean. Wake up." Sam tried again to bend his legs, to get to his feet. The pain intensified in his leg as blood welled when his muscle flexed and jostled the rock sliver._ Med kit. Gotta find Dean's pack._ Sam again shined the flashlight around the pit they were in. He finally found the pack, about ten feet from him, partially buried by rubble. Sam shifted again and pulled his way along the floor until he reached the pack. His nostrils flared as he caught a whiff of the lighter fluid. He shined his beam on the pack to see a puddle of the clear liquid at the base of the pack and more soaking everything inside.

"God. Please let the kit be in one piece." Sam said as he moved the rubble and then used a rock to turn over the soaking pack. He pulled his pocket knife from his pocket and used it to split the side of the pack, trying to keep the lighter fluid off his hands. He removed his jacket and then his over shirt, wrapping that around his hands. He found the med kit wet, but the metal box was still closed, the water tight seal still engaged. He used the shirt to wipe the outside of the box dry and putting his jacket back on, crawled back to Dean, med kit in hand.

"Dean, hey. I gotta get the rock outta my leg and then I can help you. Okay? Just hang on, Dean. Please, just hang on." Sam broke open the seal on the med kit and reached inside for some necessary things to remove the rock from his leg. He sat up and forced himself to straighten out his injured leg.

"Gaaahh!" He cried in pain as he felt warmth slide around the back of his knee. He pulled the whiskey bottle from the pack and capped it, taking a mouthful of the fiery liquid. He swallowed quickly and hissed as it burned the whole way down. He then reached for a suture kit, forceps, and peroxide. He gripped the sliver with the forceps and pulled hard.

"Ahhhhhhhggggghhhhh!" he screamed as the sliver parted from his flesh with a sucking sound. He let it bleed for a moment, relieved that it didn't bleed more. The numbness left and pain set in as feeling returned to the limb. He opened the suture kit and removed everything from the tray, placing it carefully on the plastic that sealed the kit, trying desperately to keep everything as clean as possible. He poured peroxide over the wound and fought away the black spots that clouded his vision._ Can't pass out, Dean needs me. _He quickly stitched the wound and bandaged it. He then gave himself a shot for tetanus and an antibiotic.

"Dean… hey Dean. I'm gonna help you now. Just keep breathing Dean." Sam remembered what Dean said to him and used his own magic words on him. Sam moved to the beam lying across Dean and sat up straighter. He put both hands under the beam and hefted with all his strength. It gave and Sam soon had it flipped off his big brother. He checked Dean's lower back and legs for injury. Finding nothing but bruises he decided he had to get Dean's face out of the dust. Sam stretched and pulled his pack to him. Removing the sleeping bag he unfolded it and opened the zipper all the way, throwing it open to its full size on the floor next to Dean. Sam lurched to his feet, grimacing as pain shot through his leg and he limped to Dean's other side. He stooped and caught Dean by the neck and waist, supporting the alignment, and rolled him onto his back in one motion. The reach as Dean rolled sent Sam painfully to his knees.

"Gaahhh!" He felt bile rise into his throat at the pain and turned away quickly, vomiting a few feet from Dean. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and wiped that on his jeans. He glanced at Dean where he now rested on the blanket and bile threatened again.

"God, Dean." Dean's face was covered in blood and dust. It was caked like a grotesque mud pie against his left temple. He was still unresponsive as Sam moved in. He pulled the med kit with him as he sat by Dean's head. Sam pulled gauze from the med kit and wiped away the clotted mess. The blood began to flow again. _Too fast. He's losing too much._ Sam quickly grabbed more gauze and applied pressure to Dean's wound, using his casted hand to stabilize his head. Sam's good hand stung as the pressure he was using aggravated the earlier injury of the miner's pick axe hitting his wrist. It was then he noticed the bruises. _At least it's not broken. Two casts would not be any fun at all._

Blood soaked through the gauze and continued to flow. Sam discarded the crimson mess and reached for more gauze and a pressure bandage. He wasn't sure if pressure on a head wound was the smartest thing to do because of the possibility of swelling, but he had to get the bleeding stopped. Sam cleaned Dean's head wound with the peroxide, watching in disgust as the liquid foamed yellow and red with blood and filth. Once clean he realized that it was truly no small injury. The split skin ran from the crown of Dean's head to his temple, ending just above his cheekbone. Sam knew he had to stitch it so he sat to work. Thirty tiny stitches later it was finished and Dean's head was bandaged.

Sam shined the beam of his flashlight around the pit again. This time, searching for a way out. He fished around in his pocket and felt what was supposed to have been his cell phone, now just a pile of broken plastic and bits of metal. _So much for that idea, not that I thought reception would be good here._ The walls of the pit they were in were smooth, no footholds that he could use to climb.

"Dammit." Sam said as he turned off the flashlight to save its battery, casting him and Dean into near darkness. Sam shivered slightly as the loss of his over shirt hit him. He sniffed the air wondering if the gas levels were safe enough to build a small fire. _With Dean's injury he could use the warmth too._ Sam turned on the flashlight again and began searching for scraps of wood small enough to use and found some. He soon had a fire going with the dried wood and his lighter fluid soaked shirt as accelerant. In the light from the fire he saw Dean move. Sam hurriedly limped back to his side.

"Dean? Dean, can you hear me?" Sam touched Dean's face below the bandage and Dean eased his head into Sam's hand. Sam couldn't help but smile softly. "Come on Dean, you gotta wake up. Wake up Dammit." Dean moved again. He was shivering. Sam took a moment to check Dean's ribs and legs for injury before quickly covering him with the other half of the sleeping bag. He zipped it up and used the extra length to move Dean gingerly towards the fire.

"There, that's better for you. Now I gotta try to get you awake. I don't like that head injury. Dean…" Sam trailed off as he felt a presence behind him in the pit, the smell of ozone now hitting him. "Oh crap." He turned and came face to face with the miner's spirit. Sam couldn't retreat because he'd fall on Dean so he propelled himself forward with a growl at the pain in his leg. He caught the solidified spirit by the shoulders and managed to push him away before it faded into translucency. The spirit blinked in and out of focus before becoming solid and advancing on Sam again. Sam dodged the swing of the pick and it embedded itself in the pit wall. The spirit faded and the pick slid soundlessly from the stone.

Sam made a mad dash for his pack and the shotgun it contained. He ripped it from his pack and turned. The spirit was solid and on him again. Sam fired the sawed-off point blank and the spirit screamed horrifically and dispersed.

"Ooww." Sam muttered as his leg gave out beneath him after the strain of the fight with the spirit. "That damn thing will be back. Gotta find the bones. We were right next to them when we fell. They have to be here somewhere." Sam forced his way back to his feet and picked up the discarded flashlight that was still burning. He looked once more around the pit. He soon found the bones; they were in the darkest corner. Sam pulled the gloves from his pack and slid into the leather, letting them warm his hands for a moment. He then stood and advanced on the skeleton. The fall had broken a few of the bones but it remained largely intact. Sam moved it out to where any smoke from it would rise up out of the pit to the shaft above. He limped to the other pack which was still sopping with lighter fluid and picked it up at a relatively dry spot. He knew everything left inside had to be removed and cleaned if it wasn't ruined.

He worked quickly at pulling things from the pack. The camping shovel which was on top was spared. It had gotten no lighter fluid on it. The sleeping bag came next. It too was dry, Sam saw when he unrolled it and shined his flashlight over every inch. He was grateful because glancing at Dean, Sam caught his shiver. He shivered himself. Sam pulled the remaining things from the pack, leaving the busted plastic bottle of lighter fluid inside. The shotgun, and paper cartridges filled with rock salt were sopping in lighter fluid and useless. Sam sat them aside, wanting them nowhere near the fire he was about to light. Sam lastly pulled the metal jug containing salt out of the pack. The can was dented but the salt inside still usable.

Sam laid the pack over the skeleton. He poured salt on the skeleton and again limped over to check to see if he'd missed anything.


	8. Driving Back Roads

**Chapter 8: Driving Back Roads**

Bobby and Joshua had been on the way back to South Dakota and Bobby's scrap yard after a hunt they had teamed up on in southern California. They had started to pass through a small mining town in Utah. Joshua was driving and detested use of the freeway. "Too many cops," he always said. Josh had the most extensive cache of illegal weapons of any of the hunters, since he tended to run across things none of the others in their small group had ever seen. Something caught his eye at the mine gate as he skirted the main street of the town, instead sticking to the outskirts. He stopped the car.

"Lookie there. Isn't that Dean's car?"

"Yeah, that's it alright. What're they doin' at a mine?"

"Maybe Sam got the desire to explore. That kid always was adventuresome."

"Trouble with that is Dean's a little claustrophobic."

"When'd that happen?"

"Couple years back, a possessed undertaker locked him in a coffin. Damn near suffocated before his Daddy found him."

"I haven't seen those boys in years. You don't think they're hunting something in there do ya?"

"I do remember reading about some freak accidents that started happenin' suddenly. There was some new digging or something goin' on that cleared a section where a cave in had happened, burying a miner a few decades back. Maybe the boys got wind of somethin'." Bobby pulled his cell phone and hit a button. He listened as it went straight to Dean's voicemail. He hung up and pushed another button. Sam's did the same thing.

"They're in there. Cell phones go straight to voicemail. They wouldn't have any reception."

"Miner's spirit, ya think?"

"Could be. Let's go check it out."

Bobby picked up his shotgun and got out of the car. Joshua went to his trunk and opened it, unlocking his weapons storage locker. He pulled another shotgun and rock salt ammo, giving some to Bobby. He then pulled out an empty duffle and stuffed some other items inside; rope, first aid kit, salt, a metal can of lighter fluid, two flashlights and some flares. They headed inside the mine in search of their young friends and a spirit.

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Sam saw that the area where the skeleton had fallen was clean. He limped back to where he'd prepared to burn the thing and pulled his lighter from his pocket. He heard Dean groan. Shoving the lighter back into its home he hobbled to Dean's side and crouched down, ignoring the pain in his leg.

He shined the flashlight on his brother's chest and used the ambient light to see if he was coming to. His eyes remained closed and he still shivered, even with the heat of the fire. His face around and under the bandage was now turning an ugly shade of purple that looked black in the dim glow of the flashlight.

"Come on Dean. Just keep fighting. Don't leave me, okay? Just keep breathing." Sam ran his good hand down Dean's un-bandaged cheek in a soothing gesture. Dean quieted but still shivered as Sam tucked the other sleeping bag in closer around the one Dean was in. Sam moved nearer the fire for a moment to stop his own chills before going back to the task at hand, burning the bones of the miner that had continued to attack them. He kept the shotgun handy, clutched loosely in his casted hand.

"You're ash, you son-of-a-bitch" Sam said as he once again pulled his lighter. He flicked the striker over the flint and was rewarded with a burst of warmth as flame flickered to life. He stepped back and extended his hand to drop the Zippo onto the pack still seeping lighter fluid. The miner's spirit manifested and swung the pick axe at Sam. Sam dodged again. The lighter went out with the wind from the miner's pick. He was solid again. Sam made his move barreling around the miner and flicking the lighter again. The miner spun and swung the lethal long handled tool.

"You can't have my diamonds!" The miner cried in its gravelly voice.

"I don't want you're damn diamonds!" Sam raised the shotgun and dropped the flaming lighter at the same time. The miner swung and Sam fired as flame jumped over bones. The shotgun report echoed off the walls and masked Sam's cry of pain, but not the spirits shriek of rage, as the handle of the pick caught Sam across the chest and sent him flying backwards into the wall. The gun skittered to a halt beside unconscious Dean a foot from going into the fire. Sam slumped to the stone floor, unmoving. Both hunters' faces were lit by fire light as bones and spirit was destroyed.


	9. Pulled from the Pit

**Chapter 9: Pulled from the Pit**

"Did you hear that?" Joshua asked Bobby, going completely still even as he dropped into a fighting stance.

"Shotgun and screams. Came from this tunnel."

"Let's go. Those boys need us." Joshua and Bobby took off down the tunnel where the shotgun blast still echoed at a full run. They soon came upon a hole in the shaft floor that had smoke pouring from it. Bobby dropped to his knees and looked down into the hole, trying to see past the billowing smoke.

"Josh, gimme your spot light."

Joshua pulled the large light from the pack and handed it to Bobby, who turned it on and shone the beam down the hole in the floor. He made out several shapes on the floor of the pit. Two human bodies, one wrapped in a blanket of some kind and the other laying face down near the wall. The other thing he could make out was skeletal remains that were on fire.

"They're down there. Looks like they're both hurt." Bobby shined the beam around the walls of the cavern. "Walls are smooth. God knows how long they've been trapped or what kind of shape they're in. We gotta get down there." Joshua pulled the rope from his pack and tied it around a support beam for the ceiling of the shaft.

"I reckon we can repel down to them. How far is it?"

"'Bout twenty feet. God, if those boys are…"

"They'll be okay, Bobby."

"They better be or I'll kick their asses."

"Let's get movin'."

Bobby went down first, Joshua close behind. When his feet hit bottom he was away from the rope and at the side of the blanket wrapped figure. Joshua went to the other one.

"Oh, Sammy!" Joshua straightened out the heap that was Sam and rolled him onto his back. He was covered in bruises and coal dirt, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth and the back of his head.

"Sammy. Sam! Hey, its Josh. Come on, kiddo can ya hear me?" He touched Sam's forehead beside a particularly large bruise. "Sam Winchester, you'd better soon be answerin' me. How's Dean doin', Bobby?"

Bobby glanced at Joshua, his gaze dropping to Sam. "Hurt bad. Looks like Sam patched him up though. Runnin' a fever. Got infection setting in, looks like." Bobby turned back to Dean. "Dean, Can ya hear me? Dean? Josh, we gotta get them outta here."

"Yeah. Let's put 'em in the sleeping bags. They'll act like a harness. I'll head up the rope and you tie 'em fast. Then I'll pull 'em up. We'll patch up the injuries and get them the hell outta here. Somewhere safe to let 'em mend.

"Unnnnghhh." Sam stirred and moaned under Joshua's hand.

"Sam… Sam? You okay? C'mon kid, wake up."

Sam opened pain filled hazel eyes and a look of confusion crossed his features for a moment. "Josh…?" Joshua picked him up and cradled him in his arms like the infant he remembered from all those years ago when he'd first met the new hunter that took his baby boys with him on the road. He'd hated John Winchester when he'd first met him. Just another hunter out for revenge. Then he'd held Sammy Winchester for the first time. His view changed when Sam looked at him with that innocence. He remembered a seven year old Sammy crawling up into his lap with a kid's book on the universe and begging him to read. Sam looked at him and still had that same confused, child-like look on his face.

"Yeah, kid. It's me."

Sam's eyes closed and then re-opened. "How'd ya fin' us?" He slurred as he struggled to stay awake. He began to cough.

"Easy Sammy. Are your ribs broke? You're bleedin' from the mouth."

"Na… bit my cheek I think…hurts. Head hurts."

"Yeah, kid, you got a concussion. Just take it easy. Bobby's here too, were gonna get you and Dean outta here."

"Dean? How…?" Sam's eyes closed again. He forced them back open, now cloudy with worry for his big brother.

"Shhh… Sam. He'll be okay." Sam's eyes closed and he rested, relaxing against Joshua as the darkness claimed him again.


	10. Brothers in Arms and Injuries

**Chapter 10: Brothers in Arms and Injuries**

Sam stirred in the warm bed. He felt like he'd been sleeping for a month and he could sleep longer. His mind was in a haze. Trying to open eyes that refused to budge he groaned and flopped a hand to his head. He just forgot it was the hand in the cast and winced when it hit his forehead hard enough to hurt.

"Ow!" He cried out and opened startled hazel eyes. He found Joshua leaning in over him with a grin on his face.

"Bang up job there kid. Whatcha tryin' to do, knock yourself out again?"

"Bite me, Josh." Sam said around a raspy throat. Joshua pulled away from the bed and reached for a glass of water on the stand. Leaning back in, he lifted Sam's head and gave him a sip.

"Now is that any way to talk to the guy who can drown your sorry ass right now?"

"You like it and you know it." Sam snarked as he let his head fall back to the pillow. He felt wiped. "How's Dean? How'd you guys find us? How the hell long was I out? Where are we anyway?"

"You can play twenty questions later. Dean's okay. Bobby's been with him, helpin' him through the fever. He hasn't woken up yet, but it's only been a day for both of ya. You're at my place."

Sam tried to force his way out from under Joshua. The older hunter restrained the youngest Winchester. "Dean's sick?! Infection? Let me go, he needs me!"

"Sam, dammit, you stop right now. Dean is in good hands and you need to rest." Sam's strength gave out and he sank back into the mattress. "Damn, boy. When the hell did you get so strong?" Joshua said when he finally let him go.

"How bad is Dean, Josh?"

"Bobby got the fever under control early this morning. You rest for a few more hours and I'll help you get to your brother."

"No Josh, now. I need to see Dean." Sam started to fight again, pushing his way out from under the covers. Joshua reached out to stop Sam and instead wound up catching him as his eyes rolled back and he slumped in the older hunter's arms.

"Damn, kid. You're too much like your pig headed big brother. Guess he really did raise you up right."

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Sam woke to the feel of eyes watching him. He opened his own, turning his head to the side, and came face to face- or rather face to bandage- with Dean.

"You passed out on Josh, you know that." Dean said with half a smile. His left cheek was swollen and covered with fading bruises. His words sounded muddled, like he was talking around a mouth full of cotton.

"Dean, are you okay? You scared me. Josh told me you had an infection."

Dean touched the bandage that graced his head and temple, nearly covering his left eye. "Me? I'm okay. I've been up and around for a few days. You're the one that scared us."

"Huh?"

Infection took you out, Sammy. We had a doc come in for you. Friend of Josh's. The wound on your side got infected. Gave you blood poisoning. You had a fever over 104 for two days. You're outta the woods now, though."

"A few days? Two days? How long was I out this time?"

Dean glanced at his watch as he pulled his hand out from under the blanket that covered his legs. That was when Sam noticed that Dean was in Joshua's recliner with his feet propped up. "Uh… four days, three hours and thirty two minutes."

"Wow, not down to the second. What's the matter? Don't love me anymore?" Sam teased good-naturedly.

"Eighteen." Dean muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"Eighteen seconds, okay? Bite me, Sam."

"Maybe later."

"Dude, the first time you're not layin' on your ass, I'm so gonna kick it for ya!"

"You can try, Dean. You can try." Sam laughed and so did Dean.


End file.
